


The Hurricane

by AmaranthPrincess21



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, F/M, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranthPrincess21/pseuds/AmaranthPrincess21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working for Kyoya, the two of you are stuck in the office due to a raging hurricane outside. And worse, Kyoya has come down with a high fever . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like when I go to hell, and I'm all, "I don't belong here!" Satan's just gonna hold up this fic and be like, "Gurlfrann, please." No but really I'm going to hell for this. 

Warning: Angst. Angst angst angst angst angst. If you don’t like things that make you feel like you want to die, don’t read this. Why are you still reading? Do you not know “angst” is secret code for “death and making you want to curl up in a ball and be buried alive?” Well, you do now. But seriously this will be depressing so I’d suggest not reading it if you dislike sad things.

“Sir, I brought you your te – sir?” You stood in the doorway of Kyoya Otori’s office, a tray containing tea in your hands as you fought a giggle. Your boss, Kyoya Otori, was passed out on his desk. He seemed to be out cold, using a stack of papers as a pillow. _Poor thing. He should have just stayed home today. He’s sick after all, he’s got a good reason to stay home,_ you thought as you shut the door and walked to his desk. You placed the tray on his desk as quietly as possible. You’ve been his secretary for a few years, and knew better than to attempt to wake him up. 

_I’m honestly surprised he can sleep right now,_ you thought as you glanced to the window behind him. It was just _pouring_ outside and the wind was screaming bloody murder as it sprinted through the greenery outside, tearing off weak branches and kicking up fallen leaves. Thunder shook the large panes of glass that protected you and Kyoya from the hurricane outside. _When will this let up?_ you wondered, looking at your distorted, ghostly reflection in the glass as water ran down the smooth barrier. The weather man had warned everyone that morning that the hurricane was just going to get worst, and it looked like his prediction was true. 

Looking back to your boss, you allowed yourself to release a quiet sigh. Kyoya had been sick for more than a week, and he wasn’t getting any better. In fact, he seemed to be getting worse. You had argued with him about it, asking him to stay home and rest, but he refused, stating he was healthy enough to work. You knew it was complete bullshit, but you let it slide and let him come to work. After all, if he stayed home, you wouldn’t be able to see him. 

_He looks a bit warm,_ you noticed, seeing beads of sweat on his face. Pulling a tissue from the tissue box, you carefully and gently dabbed his face dry. You knew it was a bad idea to wake him up. Heat radiated from his cheeks, making your stomach start to knot itself in worry. _Oh, no. No no no no no,_ you thought, gingerly putting your hand on his forehead; he was burning up. His face was far too hot. _God, how do you take down a fever?!_ you internally screamed, fingers running themselves through your [h/c] as you tried to think. _Do I have any meds that could help?_ You sprinted to the desk outside his office, tearing apart your personal space in order to something that could help him. 

_Why do I not have any meds?! I always have_ something! you thought in irritation, your chest starting to heave. _I can’t just let him get worse! I can’t do that!_

_Calm down, you’re not going to lose him!_ your common sense scolded you harshly. _You can’t help him if you’re so worked up about it. Yes, he’s the love of your life. Yes, it would be painful to lose him. But you can’t do anything if you’re hysterical, so calm down._ You inhaled shakily, and then exhaled. 

_I need to keep a clear head. I need to keep a clear head,_ the phrase repeated itself over and over in your head like a mantra as you stood up and went back into Kyoya’s office. Maybe he had something to help his fever. Of course, this would require waking him up; like hell you were going to go through his things without his permission. You went over to his sleeping figure and shook his shoulder, bracing yourself for the backlash. 

“Sir, wake up. You need to take some medicine,” you announced. He didn’t stir, so you shook him a little harder. “Mr. Otori, wake up. Sir, you need to wake up.” He remained still, and your fear began to rise again. “Kyoya, wake up!” you shouted, shaking him harder than you probably should have. Still, he didn’t move at all, and your panic overtook you. Whipping your phone out of your pocket, you dialed for help.  Every second they didn’t pick up increased your worry. 

“What’s your emergency?” The voice was curt. _It’s about time!_ you almost said into the receiver, even though only a few seconds had passed. 

“Please, I have someone really sick with me and I can’t get down his fever and he’s not waking up!” The words poured out of your mouth like the rain outside. 

“Do you have anything to bring his fever down?” 

“No, I don’t have any medicine, or anything!” 

“Try cooling him down with water. I’m afraid because of the storm help may take a while to get to you two, but I’m sending in a team right now. Where are you?” As you gave her the address, you knew you should have felt relieved, but nausea built in your stomach instead. _How long will they take?_  you wondered as you hung up, looking out of the window. It was still storming outside, and it seemed to be getting worse by the second. 

_You can’t afford to wait on them. Go get some water and try to take his fever down yourself,_ you told yourself sternly. _You can’t help him if you’re hysterical._ The water cooler was only a few feet away from you, and you walked over to it as you pulled a handkerchief out of your breast pocket. Living up to its name, the water was freezing as it soaked through the square of fabric and ran onto your fingers. _This should help a little, I hope._

You hurried back to him, part of you hoping that perhaps he had woken up by now. But no, he was still thoroughly passed out at his desk. You tried to wave away the tsunami of worry in your stomach as you pushed him back in his chair so you could get to his forehead a little easier. You pressed the wet cloth to his burning skin; he still didn’t wake up. _Oh, God, this is bad. This is bad,_ you fretted, biting your lip as you stared at the unconscious man. 

You remembered the first time you had met him. You had been passing by him in the office, and you had become immediately smitten with the handsome man. And as luck would have it, he was looking for a secretary and someone recommended you. The interview with him had gone fairly well, and although you were surprised to find out how calculating Kyoya was, you fell even more for him because of his loyalty. Even if it was to a company, loyalty meant a lot to you and you liked anyone that had a sense of duty. You got the job, and for the past two years you had spent almost every day with him, falling for him more and more as time went on. You doubted he liked you back. After all, with all his time focused on keep the company afloat, you knew how little spare time he had. If any. But still, part of you hoped one day he’d notice you and make a move. It was a silly dream, but it was a persistent one. 

His eyelids flickered, and he came to, looking drowsy all the while. “[First], what are you doing? Why is my head wet?” he asked, reaching up to feel the wet handkerchief. 

“You woke up with a fever, but don’t worry, help is coming and I’m trying to lessen the fever a bit,” you reassured him, the relief you had been longing for finally spreading through your body. He reached for the tea you had brought him earlier, and he took a small sip. 

“Get it off me. I’m fine, [First].” he told you sharply.

“‘Fine?!’ You’re burning up, Kyoya, you need to rest!” you replied angrily. “Go back to sleep and leave the paperwork to me. And I’m not taking this off you unless it’s to get more cold water on it.” 

“You’re overreacting. I can still think, therefore I can still work,” he said. You sighed, giving him puppy-dog eyes. 

“Please. Just rest. For me?” you added the last part hopefully, looking to him with a small smile. He gave you a stony look, but then sighed. 

“Can you grab my jacket?” he asked you.  

“I could, but I’m not. You need to cool down, the jacket will just make the fever worse,” you argued with him. 

“No it won’t. Just give me my ja - ” His hand flew to his mouth and he lurched forward, his eyes widened in shock. 

“Are you all right?!” you inquired hurriedly. He nodded, the motion everything but fluid. 

“I-I just felt sick for a moment. I’m fine,” he looked you in the eyes. He just didn’t look right. _Where is the goddamn ambulance?_ you asked, praying that at any moment the sharp shrill of sirens would rise above the howl of the hurricane reining the land outside. 

You felt yourself calm a bit, though, as time went on. With lots of cool water, he seemed to you to get better. He still looked terrible, but after an hour and help hadn’t arrived, his fever had gone down a little and he looked less pale. 

“I told you I was fine,” he smirked at you as he worked on the papers in front of him. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“You’re not completely better yet, sir,” you reminded him. “Wait until you’re over this cold to gloat.” 

“Such backtalk. And to think I was going to promote you,” he said, his voice deadpan but his smirk remaining on his face. 

“I’m already your secretary, sir. What position could be higher than that?” you asked him, a smile painting your lips. _Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this will all turn out fine,_ you mused. 

“There are a lot of positions higher than being a secretary. Show me more than your full potential and I’ll promote you accordingly,” he said, and finally the screeching of sirens could be heard in the distance. Your smile widened, but his disappeared. “You didn’t call them off?” he asked you, an eyebrow raised. 

“No. Your fever’s still pretty high, and it’s about time you went to the doctor anyway to see what this is. You’ve never been this sick and it’s been a long time since you first started showing symptoms,” you pointed out. 

“[First], I appreciate the concern you feel, but everything is fine,” he tucked you under the chin, making the butterflies in your stomach as violent as the storm outside. A warm smile graced your face, your [e/c] eyes softening. But your tongue was tied, and you decided to just enjoy this moment silently. After all, didn’t actions speak louder than words anyway? 

*A Week Later* 

The hurricane had finally lost steam and burnt out yesterday. The sun was out, its warmth trying to dry the incredibly soaked earth. Once again, the sky was a light blue and white clouds, never threatening to rain, were dancing through the sky. But as one storm ended, another began.

The doctors couldn’t identify Kyoya’s illness, and although they did their best to heal him, he was too far along in whatever he had contracted. He steadily got worse and worse, and had passed away two nights ago. You hadn’t been in the room; all of his friends from his Host Club days had come to see him, and there was a visitor limit. You stood outside the room, listening to his friends and him talk about the old days. Though you wanted nothing more than to be in the room with him, you knew he would have preferred the company of his friends, and so you gave up your spot to them. 

It had been horrible, and you had been crying nonstop since you learned the news. It was even worse when you were asked to clean out his office on behalf of his family, who were too devastated by their loss to even go near the building.  So there you stood in Kyoya’s office, packing away his possessions into cardboard boxes as tears streamed from your eyes and you chest heaved with sobs. _Why do I have to do this? I was the closest one here to him, someone else should I have to do this painful job! Not me!_ you lamented as you opened the last drawer in his desk. It was empty save for a tiny little box. _What’s this?_ you wondered, taking it out and opening it. 

It was a jewelry box, and inside of it was a gorgeous necklace. It was an elegant gold chain with a pendant incrusted with your birth stone. A note was stuck to the lid of the box. Your fingers pried it out, and you read the note. 

           I realize this is highly unprofessional, but I need to say this. You are a phenomenal person, [First], but an even more amazing person. Thus, I would like you to consider accepting a promotion, so to speak – going from just a friend of mine to a significant other. 

The tears in your eyes blurred what little you could see in the first place. A violent sob ripped itself from your throat as you fell to your knees, the little box and note clutched in a death grip against your chest. Your head spun as your stomach felt violently nauseous, threatening to expel what little you’ve eaten since his death. _Oh, GOD WHY?!_  you internally screamed, as you sobbed, acidic tears burning your flesh.  

            I understand if you do not accept, but I would like to point out that no one knows you better than I do. And that if people finding out about an inter-office romance worries you, there are way to keep people quiet. Those little things should not affect your decision-making; everything will be fine. So, how about that promotion?


End file.
